Monthly Archives: February 2016

I recently started dating a great guy, who is White, and absolutely loves my coily hair. He carelessly plays with it while driving, or runs his hands through it (well, as far as he can get anyway) all the time. When I spend time with him, I strategically plan my hair. And he hasn’t slept over yet which leaves me with 3 hair hurdles:

1. Wash Day:
If we get serious, sooner or later I’ll need to wash my hair. This will probably mystify him the most. Why is it when he touches my hair it’s slick with oils and butters? Why is it all full of bands and twists? Why not a quick towel fluff and bun?
I’m just going to be blunt: look, wash day ain’t pretty but if you want to be able to keep running your hands through my hair without losing a finger, I need to get intimate with my deep conditioners and Shea butter.

2. Night Time

At night, I pull some doo-doo plaits (big, ugly twists not meant for outside) and pull on a silk bonnet. I would totally understand if I never got a text back in the morning if he seen how I looked going to bed but, if I can switch from XXL basketball shorts and a tank top to sexy, red silk lingerie at bed; surely I can put a bit of effort and put my hair in 2 French braids or a top not, or curlers even with a cute bonnet (read: not a stocking cap!).
If all else fails, I can be straight up: Look, dude, if I have to put up with your roaring snores, then you have to put up with my bonnet and protective styles.

3. Dinner at the Parents

I don’t know, some old folk are pretty cool but my guy’s family isn’t just Canadian, a pretty tolerant bunch of people. They are French Canadian. So not only am I a Black Anglophone, I have hair that looks like it’s flowering.
Here’s the deal: I’ll tone down my wild tress hairstyles into a modestly sweet bun or ponytail to meet the ‘rents while we eat asparagus wrapped in prosciutto and other bougie food and drink oak-aged corked wine.

It really doesn’t matter how much you love the person in the mirror; there will always be people who will dislike you simply based on the things you cannot change like your hair and skin. And my advice to you? Pay no heed to the naysayers!

I began attending a church recently in the small, conservative town I now reside in. Despite church being a place for acceptance and love for each other, I have had noone talk to me or even offer a smile. If I speak to someone, they act as if I am speaking to air. I love Jesus, but discrimination does exist in church.

And I cannot let it deter me because if I really took home all that negativity and dismay, I’d be so heavy hearted! Instead, I chose to sit right up front in the pews, smile, sing and go to Coffee Break where people give me awkward glances. When things are going rough, you must go harder. You must be resilient because nobody is going to congratulate you, compliment you or give you a break. Yet, you cannot linger in bitterness.

We have to be the best. Academically, socially and morally. We need humility where others have pride; kindness where there is hostility. And when we become the best version of ourselves, we must uphold a respect and loyalty to our Black people. We cannot eschew it all for the “prize” of a Caucasian spouse, a sports car and breakfasts of croissants at some trendy hotel rooftop café. Sure, indulge in these things if it brings you true happiness but Black excellency is rooted in a unity of all things intrinsically Black. It means self-love and self-respect. It means remembering where you came from.

The next time I feel someone slight me or feel threatened by my presence, I will go out of my way to speak to them. It will annoy them, aggravate them, maybe even make them angry but, “Have a good day! God bless!” Kill them with kindness, slay with a smile. Happy Sunday, everyone!

This week I have run out of every moisturizer in my house as I wait impatiently for them to be delivered to my house. There is no Shea butter, coconut oil, castor oil or even extra-virgin oils. My hair has gone into a brittle drought! It is very unhappy without the moisturizing, softening qualities of Shea or the healthy addition of coconut on my ends.

So I ask you and myself, if you were on an island with only one product what would you bring?

I choose Shea butter. There is no other product completely formulated to perfection for Black hair. Shea butter transforms my hair. It breathes life into my dry, choosy coils. It forgives when I neglect my hair care routine and restores what I damage, all too often! Yes, leave me anywhere in the world but give me my Shea!

My favourite way to wear my hair is out and organic, leaving it to take on it’s natural free form. I am happiest with my hair crazy, disheveled and big. But this quickly dries out my hair, and my curls and coils are none too happy about my style choice. But when I first put Shea and then let it go cray, it retains so much more moisture. We are all looking to attain different looks and therefore different products will work for you. Some people are product junkies. Some (over here!) are product minimalists. What is YOUR favourite product?

I will generally get a similar text message whenever I send a video or photo of my 2 year old to family. 2.

My son has beautiful, wild curls not a tangled, scary mess. His hair is like a grove of trees in a forest, entangled harmoniously and contentedly. I feel no reason to braid or slick my son’s hair back in a sleek ‘do, nor do I ever want to cut it. But I get serious backlash for my decision, especially from my family. I do get random Black folk who ask me if a comb can go through my son’s hair. And some White people think it’s “dirty”. I once seen a mom recoil in horror when her curious daughter touched my son’s kinky hai

r!

I tell my son every day his hair is beautiful. And he is special. He loves his hair. I love his hair. When I just leave it alone, it really has it’s own personality. Kids are supposed to have fun, make messes and explore. There will be a time my son will grow up and need to shave or groom his lion’s mane in the professional world, but I want to instil a love for his Blackness in him from a young age. This mane is here to stay. Sorry, grandma!

Everyone’s natural hair story is different because it’s shaped by many different circumstances: our families, our peers, our environment, our self-esteem, economics. Mine is dubbed the Up and Down, because my hair journey has had highs and lows.

Lacking confidence about my natural hair. A hair chop and perm that left me frustrated and unhappy in 2009.

I’ll start with my family. I come from a family of Indian women with long, beautiful Black shiny hair. And then my mother married a man on my island of pure African stock, resulting in two nappy-headed daughters. My mother was quite horrified. She had no idea what to do with real African hair! She couldn’t braid, she couldn’t twist, so she decided the best way to deal with our “difficult” hair was to a) perm it or b) cut it. My older sister has more “manageable” hair, to this day I still envy her hair which is thicker and longer than mine. So she got the perm. My hair was wayward. I got the cho

Blonde hair but perm free for 4 years.

p.

I went through middle school, a bit of a misfit, because I had short boy’s hair. I was called a lesbian. Other Black girls came to school with pretty braids, and I came nearly bald. As I grew up and had more control over my head top, I experimented. At 12, I learned how to twist my whole head. It took hours of precise work, standing in front of the mirror but I loved it. However, all I saw were girls with perms and braids. I didn’t see girls with kinky hair like mine embracing it. When it came time for high school and my peers were getting their first weaves, I lost confidence and chopped my hair. This pattern would continue for my whole adolescence: liking my hair, trying to fit in with a wig or occasionally braids, then cutting it off in frustration. I had no idea how to take care of this rough, kinky hair my mother hated. Whenever I wore my hair naturally she would cluck in pity and say,
“Oh child, you can’t go around looking like that. C’mon, let’s go to the salon and let’s go do your hair.”

Then something happened when I was 16. I normally wore a wig, but I had slept over a white friend’s house and had taken it off to sleep. The next morning, her gorgeous older brother walked in and saw my dry, tangled hair and for the first time, talked to me. (swoon). He told me I should wear my hair like this, it as pretty awesome. I thought yeah right, never! at the time, but his comment wiggled around in the back of my mind for years until I decided to forego perms and weaves and anything but my hair. I was in college now. I still had no idea how to take care of it so I flat-ironed and bleached it blonde for the next 5 y

ears.

And then, I discovered the natural hair community online and learned a thing or two (or a million, thank you Naptural85 a lot). I went out and bought a whole arsenal of natural haircare products, none containing petroleum or mineral oil). I used a silk bonnet. I twisted my hair before bed, and deep conditioned and hot oil treated my hair until I woke up one day with more natural hair than I ever had in my life on my head. And I wasn’t cutting it!I was 23 years old. I was so in awe and so alien to my natural hair with length that I studied it up close in the mirror. It was love. My mom’s comments got nothing but a derisive snort from then on. My family told me to “comb my hair”. Ironically, white people always found my hair cool. I did grow it very long and thick and then when my son was born, I decided to loc it. I thought I would love locs but I didn’t and cut all my hair off after 6 months. I cut off 2 years of thick, beautiful growth. And determined, I started again. Then I dyed it blonde. Then back to Black. And

started again.

That was 6 months ago. And my hair is still recovering from my last minute hair shenanigan ideas but I love my hair. I love it and it’s still the beginning of a journey. I am learning to love what I have heard my whole life was unlovable. Oh,

This is about banding. I’m here to say I’m a believer. Why I haven’t been banding my hair every night for years is beyond me!

Banding is terrific for stretching hair, as a protective style and for creating unparalleled defined curls and waves! And it’s pretty simple, just add hairbands throughout the strands of your hair. For my son, I add the hairbands without twisting, but I twist my hair first as a protective style for bed. I haven’t done this in ages, but I will now that I basically cleared out the hairband section at the dollar store! Hehe.

There is nothing wrong with unstretched Afro hair, hair that has experienced shrinkage due to exposure to air, water, etc. Untouched Afro hair is like an art form on its own, there is a certain incredibility to it and a raw beauty to the one who wears it proudly (some of us shrink in horror at the idea of walking around with hair that has shrunk to 3x it’s regular length). But when we transform our hair and release the twists and bands, it’s like a sunburst. It is like a perfect cloud, on a perfect day. It is like magnificence in hair form. Let’s join together, fellow bandits, and take to the bands and the twists, which creates a giant, magnified pattern just like the millions of little ones on our beautiful heads.

Ah, the good old college days. When I’d wear my hair natural, but if I wanted to look really pretty I’d don a wig. Why? The length? The straightness? What was wrong with my Afro hair?

I made a lot of mistakes in college. Eating broccoli with braces. Venti lattes and designer shades fit for royalty on a less than queenly budget. And wigs. I thought the only beauty belonged to those pretty long-haired vixens on the cover of TeenVogue. Heck, they even had Chanel Iman rocking bone-straight hair although I see from her Insta she’s a fierce curly girly!

But now I see my own beauty, an authentic beauty that does not call for synthetic hair, lips or too much black kohl under the eyes. I knew this in college but I doubted myself. We probably all did. It’s a journey, where the path gets clouded and shrouded with distractions (try this hair lengthener! Use this gentle relaxer! Dye it blonde!) And it’s a journey our generation, us Xers and Yers are paving because we have the power. And we are uniting.

Today, I gave up. And no, giving up is not always bad. I gave up trying to fit in. I couldn’t take another dialogue regarding baby poop sizes and which formula is better (um, breast milk is best…but I’ll just sit in this corner and mind my business). I cannot roll my eyes enough at every Lululemon clad mother with a Coach handbag. Listen, Lulu was meant as an active wear brand, not the be all and end all of fashion, ladies.

I miss interesting conversations. Ok, interesting is subjective but anything more stimulating than refinishing a basement or the secret to a great meatloaf works for me. Vermicomposting. Guadelajara. Arctic hares. Anything. I realize I look different to these townsfolk. I am always, without exception, the only Black mom at the play centre. I am looked at like a scrounging raccoon skulking in on a private party. And I’m tired of it, because a) I’m fabulous. And b) so is my kid. Yet, everyone assumes he’s a ‘she’ because he doesn’t have a traditional boy’s crew haircut and dressed head to toe in blue. If that is your only concept of how a boy should look, I need to stop caring about what your opinion is, not just of me, but of anything.

Living in a small town where I do not know anyone at all is isolating and I do want to be part of a social group. But no, not that badly. So I’ll go to the play centre, probably with a big Afro and my son dressed all in purple with a good book and a coffee. Let the good times roll.

Have you ever had your hair so in point that nobody could throw shade? Have you ever felt so goddess gorgeous that you introduced yourself with the firmest handshake and finest smile? Yes, I swear, that is the power of your crown, your natural hair. The most beautiful and mysterious and versatile hair in the world.

I love my hair and your hair! We had a snowstorm that shut down the city yesterday so I stayed home with my hair in plaits and woke up to luxuriously shiny side bangs with volume, volume and more voluminous volume.

Generally, when I’m at home, my hair is in doo-doo plaits. But let me tell you about my bangs. I love bangs. They are flirty, fun and great at making your face symmetrical and slimmer. Who says Black women cannot have bangs? Or Black girls? Bangs are banging!

I live in a place that tries to undermine my authority and existence, that tries to discredit my intelligence and beauty and does not care to open their minds and eyes to a culture that is different but rich, vibrant and beautiful. We must continue where our empresses and chiefs left off, so many thousands of years ago, we are the continuation of a legacy. Living. Breathing. Slaying.

Every time I see American hair shampoo and conditioner commercials on TV, I have to laugh. The suds, the slow and sumptuous lather, and the vigorous towel drying afterwards that somehow leads to moisturized, perfectly straight beautiful hair. I thought this was how I was supposed to wash my hair for years, a quick 1 minute shampoo and a 2-3 minute condition, as it instructed on the back of every L’Oreal bottle.

The reality of hair washing, for me, is a half day affair and starts in the kitchen. I pull out bowls and mixers. One day, when I was in college, my mother walked in, saw all the food and asked,

I leave it on for a few hours, letting it steam up with a plastic bag and a towel on my head. I usually do a triphala powder face mask too. So, basically, I’m covered in mud. I don’t see that on any hair commercial!

I rinse it all off to detangled, shiny and stronger hair as well as the softest hair I’ll have all week (I only wash my hair once a week!) But wash day doesn’t end there. I air-dry my hair gently (or, if it’s summer I would do the beloved wash n go), then add the Shea butter (roots) and coconut oil (ends) and twist for the night.

Freshly washed hair. Mud on, mud off!

I have a great curl pattern and lots of volume washing my hair this way. I feel refreshed and rejuvenated, unlike using a conventional shampoo and conditioner that left my hair dry, frizzy and dull.

Ready to moisturize!

Moisturized, twisted, ready for bed!

It is also Wash Day for my 2 year old son. He has long, beautiful curls and a separate wash routine I’ll save for another post. What we both have in common is wearing satin bonnets to sleep! Protect your curls! Happy Wash Day, ladies and gentlemen!